Bombshell
by LeiaLeanne
Summary: After the loss of Katniss Everdeen in the 74th Annual Hunger Games, the young adults of District Twelve ban together to prepare for the Quarter Quell. You know what they say about playing with dynamite. [AU; Rated in relation to violence and adult themes present in the original series.]
1. Too Old

**A/N: At some point in one of the Hunger Games books (I don't recall which and unfortunately I haven't got any in front of me to double-check from), Katniss says something to the effect of 'it's too bad we can't go into the mines until we're eighteen because we could learn a lot of useful stuff in District 12'. I sort of took the idea and ran with it. I'm just drabbling for funsies and I m currently at Uni, so I make no promises to (1) update regularly and (2) finish the story in a timely fashion.**

**FYI: While the main characters are Gale and OC; they will not be paired romantically.**

* * *

I watch in horror as he pulls the blade from her body. I am sure she is bleeding everywhere, but I'm starting to panic and I can't quite focus on the screen in front of me. I feel too many things to allow my body to process any of them, but I try anyway. My teacher says it will keep me calm.

Fear. I hate watching the Games. They make us, of course. Just so we know. Just so we remember. They own us.

Anger. They don't own us. We are not things to be owned, we are people. We are human beings with lives and hopes and dreams and loved ones and they think they can just-

Grief. For our district, because some of us honestly believed in Katniss Everdeen. She represented more than just the empty slaughter we had come to expect annually as retribution for the sins of our fathers. Not sins. Hopes. They were right to fight, to try and-

For the other districts. Not for District One, of course, or Two or Three or even Four. It's been a long time since I've had any room in my soul for the pity of their children. No I grieve for districts like ours. District Seven, where young men leave the threat of the Reaping to face the threat of logging accidents. District Eight, where the haunted faces of the people who live there are more dead than the ghosts of those already lost.

Gale. I grieve for Gale, my classmate, because almost everyone in our district knows how close he was to her. I think of him sitting at home, alone or with his family, watching the blood drain out of the body of the girl he probably loved.

Cannon fire. She must be dead. I cannot bring myself to look at the screen, so I stare at an empty spot on the wall. My mother says nothing. She knows what I m thinking, the words I don t say out loud because it s not safe. And that s the point, isn't it? It's not safe. They have to remind us that it's not safe so they-

Pity, for her mother. And her sister, Primrose, the reason she went into the arena.

No. Sympathy.

No... pity. I want to believe that what I feel is sympathy, but that's not the truth. I pity them. It's a disgusting feeling. I hate it. I hate it almost as much as-

Relief. As soon as I think the word I can feel the tears overflow. I hate crying, but I do it all the time. I tell myself that I simply have too much disgust in my body, and the extra has to come out somewhere. I am relieved. I sit and watch the hovercraft come to remove this girl's body and I am relieved because _at least it is not me_. It will never be me. This girl was sent to slaughter to protect the life of her sister, and I am relieved because I will never again have to face the unknowing of the Reaping.

I am too old now.


	2. The Bread

Gale does not come to school the next day. No one is surprised. I think the teachers have all agreed — in private, of course — that he needs time to grieve. I am too old to go to school with Primrose, but the other students say she is at home with her mother. The rumor says she is inconsolable.

When school finally lets out, I am the last person out of the doorway. I don't want to go home, necessarily, but I don't know what to do. I am lost in thought, and so I wander.

By the time I realize where my feet have taken me, I am on the sidewalk in front of the bakery. I don't know why this is where my subconscious decided to go — I didn't know the other tribute that well. Peeta. He seemed nice, but it's a lot easier to be nice when you're not starving to death. Peeta is blond-haired and blue-eyed, marking him out as privileged in a way that the rest of us are not.

_Peeta was._

I look like Katniss did. Dark hair, olive skin, gray eyes. We all have the same features down here.

I wonder for a moment what Peeta's parents look like, if maybe they weren't born with the same dark hair as the rest of us. If maybe Peeta just got lucky.

I enter the bakery — something I have never done before — and a little bell tinkles overhead. I hear a man call out from the back of the shop.

"Just a minute!" he says. It sounds like he is moving pans. His voice gets closer. "Can't tell you how good it is to finally have meat on my dinner table again, it's been-"

He stops when he sees me, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Sorry, miss," he says. "I thought you were… well-"

"Gale brings you his game," I say. The man nods, surprised but unsure of whether or not to be suspicious.

"I haven't seen him today," I say. I feel the need to explain. "We go to school together. I went to school with-"

I stop. He looks at the display case, full of decorated cakes, and tears begin to form in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I say, but it is not enough. It will never be enough. "Gale is probably out hunting." I talk faster now, as though if I could just fill the space with my words then he will not need to remember.

"I think he would have gone hunting. It probably wouldn't be good for him to be around Peacekeepers right now. But if he's out hunting when he's normally in school then he should be bringing in more game than he usually does, so whenever he gets back he'll have some more for you… to…"

He looks up when I trail off, wiping a tear from his face.

"That's good," he says. "Good. Do you-?"

"Oh no," I say. "My mother works for the Mayor and I do part-time work when I can. We make enough." I'd never needed to barter for food from the illegal hunting. We may have barely gotten by in the past, but we have enough to survive.

"Do you need anything else?" he asks, stepping up to the counter as he gestures at the selection. My mother makes her own bread — we couldn't afford the stuff they sold here.

"No, thank you," I say quickly. "I just came to… well actually I don't know what I came here for. To offer my condolences, I suppose."

The man is silent for a moment. He looks towards the back of the shop, then quickly waves me over conspiratorially.

"You went to school with the girl?" He asks. I nod. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Yes."

"Will you bring these to her family?"

He motions to the display case. I nod quickly. "I can do that."

"It's the very least I can do," he says, grabbing a bag. He places two loaves of bread inside, then grabs a small box. He places four cupcakes inside. The lid barely closes over squashed mountains of frosting. When everything is compiled he hands me the bag, then pushes me out the door.

"If I see Gale I'll tell him to-"

"Yes, yes, that's fine," he mutters.

Not wanting to be noticed, I place the bag of baked goods into my backpack and take off toward the neighborhood where the Evderdeens live. When I reach the street, I find the correct house immediately. There are plants everywhere. A few of them are wild weeds that grow here and there, but there are almost no flowers in this area. People substituted with what they could find — branches shaped into hearts and crosses, colored leaves, and whatever other bits of foliage could be scavenged. I step around this memorial to make my way to the front door, but it is already open when I reach it. A young blond girl stands in the doorway, staring. I recognize Primrose from the Reaping.

"You don't have any flowers," she says suspiciously. "I was watching you from the window."

"No, I don't," I say, "but I have something better. May I please speak to your mother?"

To my surprise, the girl shakes her head. "Mom can't come to the door right now."

After the loss of Mr. Everdeen, rumors went around school about his widow and the depression that claimed her. It seemed she was getting better, but the loss of yet another family member would probably claim her for good. I lean down to put myself at eye level with the girl.

"I have something for you and your mom," I say. "It's a gift from a friend, but I don't want to give it to you out here. Other people might get jealous. Do you think that I could give it to you inside?"

She thinks for a moment, then nods in acquiescence. I follow her inside and she shuts the door behind me before closing the curtains in the front window as well. She leads me into the kitchen, and I set my backpack down on the counter.

I am surprised by the calm which seems to have overtaken this girl. She was hysterical at the Reaping — something I understand completely — but there is no trace of that anymore. The calm which has overtaken her is eerie. So much for inconsolable.

"Did you know the boy?" I ask her. "The other tribute?"

She shakes her head.

"His family owns the bakery."

Her eyes go wide. She knows what's coming.

A knock in a back room of the house startles me. There are heavy footsteps in the hall, and then a man walks into the kitchen.

"Prim, what did I tell you about letting people into the house?"

Gale glares at me with fierce eyes. "What do you want?" he snaps.

"It's okay, she has food," Primrose says, eying my backpack expectantly.

Gale looks at it, then up at me. He is suspicious.

"The other boy, the tribute-"

"Mellark," Gale snaps. "I know."

"You sell game to his father," I say, but his eyes narrow even further in suspicion. "I was just at their bakery," I say quickly. This seems to not be going well, so I move to open my backpack. Gale's hand moves to his belt, and for the first time I notice the knife in it.

"I talked to his father, and he wanted me to give you this," I say, pulling the back out of my backpack. I try to hand it to Primrose, but Gale grabs it.

"Gale!" Primrose protests as he opens the bag. He pulls out the loaves of bread, then the box of cupcakes.

"How do I know you didn't steal these?" Gale demands, shaking the box in front of my face.

"You can go ask him yourself," I snap. I can't imagine the pain he's going through, but hell if I'm going to be the one he takes it out on. "He's waiting for his game right now."

Gale glares at me, but his gaze softens as he turns to Primrose. "Go start the berries," he says, setting the cupcake box on the table. "We'll have these after dinner." Primrose does as she's told, retrieving a bowl of strawberries from the tiny icebox.

"Why did you bring these?" Gale asks, quietly but just as suspicious. I shrug.

"I was at the bakery. I went to offer my condolences, and he asked me to bring these to the other girl's family."

"Thank you."

"No-"

"Leave."

_Problem_, I intend to say, but I guess Gale has other ideas. Apparently I take too long to process, because Gale zips up my backpack and shoves it into my hands.

"You did what you came for, now leave."

I hear Primrose begin to chastise him as I do.


End file.
